The Other Agent
by WinchesterPhantom
Summary: OneShot! Alex Rider isn't the only MI6 Agent out there - so I invite you to join another MI6 Agent as they start their day...


**The Other Agent**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Alex Rider or any other characters that are apart of Horowitz's creation. He owns them.

**Summary:** OneShot! Alex Rider isn't the only MI6 Agent out there - so I invite you to join another MI6 Agent employee as they start their day...

**Author's Note:** I actually haven't read Alex Rider for ages...funny about that. Thought I'd have a go, oh and though I have proof-read this, it hasn't been beta'd by my beta since he doesn't do AR. Anyway this is my take on Alex gets a partner - enjoy...

* * *

It was dark.

It was warm.

And it was extremely early.

And yet for some absurd reason her alarm was going off.

She cracked her eyes open and reached forward trying to find the snooze button. She found it, and pressed it down firmly, smiling as the horrid beeping sound vanished. She rolled onto her other side, and into a pair of strong muscular arms. The arms clasped her, pulling her body against his, his lips brushing against her forehead.

"You getting up?" he asked softly.

"Unfortunately," she muttered, burying her face into his chest.

"Never dated a secretary that got up at six,"

"I'm no ordinary secretary," she grinned. She kissed him gently, and then pulled away. She struggled for a moment - he not wanting to let go. Eventually after a threat to the family jewels he let go. She dragged herself out of bed, grabbing a pair of jeans, bra, undies and a black top, heading out of the room.

"Never dated a secretary that wears jeans to work either," he grunted from bed.

"Like I said, I'm not ordinary,"

He yawned, and closed his eyes. She sighed, and headed for the bathroom. Dropping her clothes down, she brushed her thick hair out of its tangled mess, and hopped it into the shower. She turned on the heat, standing there for a few minutes, a large smile on her face, breathing softly.

It was the perfect wake up call.

"Water waster!" he shouted.

She rolled her eyes, and washed her hair. Running her hands through her hair, she got the rest of the goo out, before spinning the taps, and ending the heavenly stream of water. She yawned...god early mornings weren't her thing...damn job.

She left the shower, and began to dry herself. She bundled her hair into a turban, and began the mad process of drying herself. She hated being...wet. Well no, she loved water, she just hated that feeling damp - in English it was either dry or wet - no in between,

Rubbing the towel against her body, she grabbed her hair dryer, and straighterner, setting them both up. When she was satisfied, she unravelled her hair, flipping it over. She clasped the hair dryer, flipped the switch, and started to dry her hair. She grimaced slightly - it was way too hot.

By the time she finished drying her hair, her boyfriend staggered into the room. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his head into her hair, and he mumbled, "You look like a poodle,"

She frowned, and pushed away, spinning around, holding the hair dryer like a gun, "What did you just say?"

"Your hair," he shrugged, completely ignoring the hair dryer. She glared slightly, and turned away. Turning off the dryer, she now turned it on the straightener. He watched her thoughtfully.

"I'll never understand why women go through so much effort,"

She shrugged, slowly bringing the hot iron through her messy locks, "Maybe because we don't want to go to work looking like poodles?"

"Never said it was a bad thing," he chuckled, "But seriously Stairs - "

Suddenly the faint twinkle of her ringtone came from the bedroom. He grinned, and vanished into the room, to retrieve it. She chuckled slightly as she heard him answer it.

"Stairs, it's work, you got a meeting with some Blunt guy at seven," he called.

Shit...no way she was going to get there in time.

"Christ," she murmured.

"I'll go make some tea!" he called.

She nodded, and quickly finished up. She hooked on her bra, and began to get dressed, doing a mad hop around the bathroom as she pulled on her jeans. She brushed some colour onto her face, creating an even tone, and then used her mascara. Satisfied, she left and headed into their small kitchen.

He handed her a cup, and she immediately drowned the drink.

Big mistake.

It was so freaking hot - scalding, she was sucking in large amounts of air, swearing slightly as she did. She darted over to the sink to fill up a cup with cold water, whilst he laughed. When her mouth cooled down she glared, "You're mature!"

"Sorry Stairs," he looked at the clock, "Ya better go,"

She nodded, and pecked him on the check, "Ciao Chris,"

Chris grinned, grabbing her backpack, and bike helmet, and leather jacket in the process. Chris glared at the leather jacket for a moment before pecking her lightly on the cheek. She jolted out of their flat, and ran down the stairs, and headed outside, shivering in the cold morning air.

She pulled on her jacket, pushed her helmet onto her head, and swung onto her Yamaha. She loved her bike - it had been a gift from her uncle for her twenty-first birthday. It was a good bike - fast, sleek, with good control, only problem was that it was annoying on longer trips. Its handling was better suited for shorter trips.

She kick started the engine, and she was soon off, racing through London. Her reflexes were at their peak as she swerved through traffic, her stomach fluttering, her teeth clenched in a strange wild grin. Her knuckles were slightly white as she braked, when a large car cut in front of her forcing her to rethink her route.

Swearing under her breath she cut onto the sidewalk, and raced along it, and then cut straight back onto the road. Riding at speeds that could kill someone, she ignored the blaring of horns, and her surroundings seem to vanish.

She cut a short corner, and rode through the London CBD. She rolled over to the Royale & General, and slipped into the carpark with a swipe of her card, sweeping into a spot, and cutting the rumbling of the bike's engine. She got off and yanked off her helmet.

She made her way over to the elevators, and as she passed the security office, a male voice called her, "Hey Sarah!"

Sarah grinned, and waved, "How are you Matt?"

It was petty talk really but she welcomed it, even if it was only for a few minutes. Anything to prolong going up to Blunt's office. She generally liked her co-workers, they were an interesting bunch - some were absolute nuts, or geniuses, or had the whole 'lone wolf' style down pact. It wasn't dull - but Blunt...was blunt, sorta had no real personality. Though she supposed being blunt was his thing.

"What ya doing today?" asked Matt.

They both knew they weren't going to discuss it. It was just a courtesy.

Nonetheless she replied, "Meetings...ya know,"

"Course," he said, he gestured to metal detector, "You know the drill,"

She nodded, and passed through. She waited for the familiar beep and then headed to the elevators. She waited a few minutes for one to come down, some other co-workers coming and joining her. No conversation was passed though, and if there was any it was filled with cries for coffee and yawns.

The elevator pinged, and they all pressed their floors. Eventually she reached her floor and got off, making the slow and painful walk to his office.

"Lord!" came a soft voice from behind. She spun around to see Mrs. Jones leaving her office.

"Hello Mrs. Jones," said Sarah. She glanced at Blunt's office door and to the head of Special ops. Frowning slightly she asked, "You going to a meeting with Blunt?"

Mrs. Jones smiled, "Yes..."

"I'm getting a mission..." said Sarah tonelessly. Not that she hadn't expected it, but it no longer caused her to start dancing and prancing. Now missions were just a part of her life - sort of like protesting major corporations was part of Chris' life. She just hoped though that at least she wouldn't be leaving until after the next fortnight.

When she first joined MI6 about nine months ago everything had seemed slightly surreal. She was a spy - hell she was like James Bond (minus the womanizing part - she didn't swing that way). But that little buzz had worn out after the first day. Spying was dangerous - no amount of training could prepare a person for it. She'd always love acting but this wasn't drama class. Suddenly those Mixed Martial Arts class her dad had made her take (and even that Krav Maga one in Israel), those extra language courses her mum had made her do in the summer, and all those adventure holidays all came into play.

The other problem was the lying. Especially to Chris - that guy would fall apart without her. Hell, she'd fall apart without him. She could deal with bullcrapping her family with excuses of business trips and even her friends, but it was also that bit harder with Chris. He'd follow her to hell probably - and he had the money to back it up thanks to his family. It would probably be easier to break it off with him, not have to worry about him ever becoming a causality in an attempt to take her out (MI6 did come with its perks, eh?) but she didn't want to break up. She was being selfish and she knew it.

The two women walked towards his office.

"You don't sound too excited," commented Mrs. Jones.

"I'm meeting my boyfriend's parents in two weeks, again, and last time they didn't appreciate me getting called out," shrugged Sarah.

Mrs. Jones chuckled slightly, "Getting serious?"

"Yeah,"

"What does he do again?"

"Protest," she replied simply. She knew perfectly well that Mrs. Jones knew everything about her love life - standard background checking stuff after all, so she wasn't even going to try starting a meaningful conversation on the subject - and it was too early.

They entered Blunt's office, after a prompt knock from Mrs. Jones. Blunt looked up at them from a large file, and motioned for her to sit. Sarah's eyes immediately picked out that it was her file he was reading. Mrs. Jones stood on his side, and Sarah couldn't help but think she was dealing with the devil and his advocate.

She sat there for a few minutes waiting for Blunt to start talking.

He didn't.

After five more minutes, she cleared her throat, "Sir?"

He stared at her for a moment, "We are waiting for someone to arrive,"

"Okay then," said Sarah, slightly annoyed at that someone - she'd rushed so why hadn't this guy? Probably traffic...though to be far not everyone had an awesome motorbike...still...

Suddenly there was a soft knock on the door, and Blunt called 'enter'. The door swung open and a blond haired teenager in a school uniform walked in, glaring at Blunt. The most shocking thing was that Sarah couldn't believe she was finally meeting him.

Him being MI6's illegitimate child.

Or secret weapon.

Take your pick.

Blunt cleared his throat, "Agent Lord, meet Agent Rider - your new partner,"

**_Fin_**

**Author's Note:** So what did you guys think?


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